


Rude Awakenings

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nocturnal emissions lead to a bit of exploration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude Awakenings

Sherlock woke up slowly, his body heavy with sleep and his mind foggy with post-case haze. It took him a while to realize something was amiss as his mind processed the most important things first.

Heavy breathing in the room.

Night emission.

Sherlock shivered as a fission of pleasure shot through him and his eyes flew open as he gasped in surprise. A warm, calloused hand was moving over his hard shaft with the lazy decadence of someone asleep. John was touching him. John was touching him over his pants and rubbing his own clothed erection against Sherlock’s bum. He was also drooling on Sherlock’s shoulder, but the previous realizations were what jolted Sherlock awake. That and the fact that John was violating all the societal conventions he’d listed right before they’d retired about two blokes platonically sharing a bed. Sherlock had no idea what to do in this situation. I he removed John’s hand it might jar him awake and he’d be embarrassed and possibly angry about the situation. If he let it continue one or both of them would climax and the same would be true, but John might be more relaxed after an orgasm which would at least dampen some of the emotional outpouring Sherlock was likely to face.

Sherlock closed his eyes again, his breath coming in slow, long, pants as he tried to contain himself. It was better if only John reached culmination. Unfortunately his unruly body didn’t agree with him and Sherlock found himself pulling the pillow up to cover the sounds of his release as it shook his entire frame. Miraculously John did not awaken. He also didn’t ejaculate. He did continue to lazily stroke Sherlock’s now softening prick while rolling his hips a bit more eagerly against Sherlock’s bottom. Sherlock redirected his hand as the stimulation became too much, but found himself holding it tightly against his chest as he felt John begin to tremble in the beginnings of orgasm.

 _Yes_.

Sherlock shivered in sympathetic pleasure as John moaned against his back, hips jerking as he came hard in his pants.

Now they had a different problem. John and Sherlock were both sticky from their release. Sherlock frowned, snatched a few tissues from the bed and breakfast’s bedside table, and cleaned himself up as best he could without waking John. He left John as he was. He wouldn’t be harmed by being a bit tacky in his pants, but Sherlock cleaning him up after his nocturnal emission would surely be seen as an invasion of his precious privacy.

Sherlock relaxed into the bed and let himself fall back into the warm arms of sleep, his fingers entwined with John’s without his tired brain noticing.

X

John groaned, he shifted miserably in bed as he took in the crusty mess in his pants and winced as a few hairs were tugged free. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings and recalled the night before as he blinked in confusion down at his bedmate. He and Sherlock had solved a crime in the country. There had been murder, intrigue, three affairs, a plot to withhold an inheritance from the rightful heir, and a very _cold_ lake that John had tumbled into. They’d retired to their _one bed only available_ B &B and John had done his best to hide the fact he was grateful for another warm body in the bed as he curled up to sleep off his dousing in the water. The shitty B&B, which really needed to be shut down, hadn’t had any hot water for him to shower. They’d thought his complaint of that was childish, apparently.

So now John was left with the humiliating realization that at some point in the night he’d had a wet dream beside his best friend and flatmate. Well, that was awkward, but John would do his best to pretend it hadn’t happened. He got up carefully, hissing as his skin and hair were pulled from the mess in his pants, but his escape was noticed.

“You’re uncomfortable because of your dried semen. I thought it prudent not to wipe it off of you. I assumed it would be a violation of that man code nonsense you brought up last night.”

“You were meant to be sleeping the other direction,” John reminded, “And did you notice it, or did you _know_?”

“If you’re asking was I awake when you ejaculated, then yes.”

“Bloody hell,” John groaned, “Part of the man code is not to mention that sort of shite.”

“Fine,” Sherlock grumbled, and began to shift about in the bed in an attempt to get more comfortable. John went to the foot of the bed and stripped out of his soiled pants, stuffing them into the trashbag full of wet clothes from the night before. That was his last pair of pants. He’d have to go commando.

Then Sherlock’s wriggling in the bed proved to be an attempt to get free of his own pants and the man tossed them at John with rather poor aim for a Holmes.

“Put them in there too, will you?” Sherlock grumbled, then rolled onto his stomach with a relieved sigh.

John had an inkling of suspicion long before he two-finger-lifted the pants up. There it was. The crusty inside of Sherlock’s pants.

“Sherlock, did we… did you… was it at the same time?”

“What happened to the man code?”

“Don’t be an arse, just answer me,” John sighed.

“Yes, it was at the same time.”

“You were awake?”

“Obvious,” Sherlock snorted, “I’d have to examine the drying rate of both our pants to determine the time without being awake. I’ve not even opened my eyes yet this morning.”

“What… exactly… happened?” John asked anxiously.

“You tossed me off while humping my arse,” Sherlock mumbled into the pillow, “I thought of stopping you, but it occurred to me you’d be embarrassed. Post ejaculation you’re less frustrating by far… well, normally.”

“Oh my gods, we had sex,” John informed Sherlock’s pants, “I just had sex with my flatmate. My _male_ flatmate!”

“Oh, no,” Sherlock groaned, “You’re _not_ going to turn this into a sexuality crisis, are you? John, I’m _tired_. We had an awkward fumble in a B &B bed reminiscent of horny teens in a dorm. It was far more awkward for _me_ than it was for _you_. I suggest you refrain from using words such as _sex_ and stick to _nocturnal emissions_ as that far more fits the frame.”

“We had _sex_ , Sherlock! Non-penetrative, but still sex! I touched you until you achieved orgasm and ejaculated myself.”

“You don’t say?” Sherlock sighed into the pillow.

“Did you do anything to _me_?”

“Yes,” Sherlock snarled sarcastically, “I fetched a marker and drew a penis on your face. Go shower. You’re being ridiculous.”

John left in a huff, bathrobe firmly around himself. The B&B had hideously decorated bathrooms on each floor, two to a floor, that were useless in the fact they almost never had hot water. John walked into the pink monstrosity and suffered through a wash with luke warm water. He stood in front of the sink and scrubbed his teeth while staring at his reflection. No penis markings, of course. Not that he needed them to picture what he’d done last night.

John spat, rinsed, spat again, and began to shave as he pondered the night before. Sherlock was his friend, his dearest friend. To say he loved him was an understatement. He’d been there for him through good, bad, and in between. He’d caused most of the good, bad, and in between, but that was beside the point. Sherlock had only John and a few friends, and he’d never expressed sexual interest in anyone before.

John tested his refractory period by reaching into his robe to stroke himself in one stubborn hand. His mind drifted to Sherlock’s full lips and opalescent eyes. His friend’s sharp tongue was the most brilliant in the world as far as John was concerned. The question was, could he do more than love him?

John steeled himself, wiping his face clean, and stormed back to the bedroom with both hands clenched. Sherlock was still sleeping, softly snoring in the bed with his arms thrown wide. John slammed the door to jar him awake and moved towards him with power in his step.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, sitting up abruptly, “That’s your battle walk. What’s happ-“

John halted his words with a kiss, grasping both sides of his face to hold him still while he ravaged his lips. Sherlock was so shocked that he turned compliant beneath John as he pressed him into the bed, straddling his narrow hips. Those hips rolled up into John’s body as Sherlock moaned softly against his lips. John worked his way across a strong jaw to a long neck, his stubble burning his lips deliciously.

“J-John,” Sherlock stammered, “I’ve not had the benefit of a wash and brushing…”

“Don’t care,” John grumbled, “Did that for you.”

“That’s… interesting but… you’re not gay.”

“Mmm,” John murmured, “Doesn’t matter. Sexuality is flexible in most people. It’s very rare someone is 100% gay or 100% straight.”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts,” John growled, “Except yours. Just _feel_.”

Sherlock fell to panting as John worked his way down his shoulder before sitting up and tugging at his vest. Sherlock’s pupils were blown and he was trembling a bit, his eyes wide with shock, but he threw up his arms and let John disrobe him. When the man lay stark naked before him John leaned forward with a wicked grin to test Sherlock’s nipple sensitivity. He lathed the nippled with his tongue until it pebbled and then gave it a firm suckle. Not very sensitive.

 _Hmm_ , John thought, and gave him a little bite.

“Teeth!” Sherlock yelped.

“Good or bad?” John chuckled.

“Good. Teeth are good,” Sherlock replied, his voice high and cracking, “Your teeth are _very_ good. You’ve only got three fillings and one cap in your entire mouth, which is actually in the very low percentile for the average European man.”

“Leave the statistics for after, please.”

“If I must,” Sherlock replied with a frustrated sigh.

 _There’s my snarky detective,_ John mused, turning to give the other nipple a few licks, a cold breath of air, and then a quick nip. Sherlock wriggled beneath him beautifully.

John reached between them to stroke his own hardening shaft and then shifted down to give Sherlock’s half-hard cock a few encouraging pets as well. Sherlock wriggled and moaned, turning his head away anxiously. John wasn’t sure if it was from self-consciousness over his breath or inexperience, but he was loving the sight of insecure Sherlock blushing beneath him. Here was where John was the expert and he was thrilled to show Sherlock how _alive_ he could make him feel.

John shifted lower, kissing his way down Sherlock’s stomach. His lips found the remnants of their dalliance the night before and skipped over it. It was dry and unappealing, though he didn’t find the thought of Sherlock’s fluids as unpleasant as he’d expected. Perhaps he _could_ go further than he’d planned.

“Sherlock, are you clean?”

“Yes.”

“Not just of drugs, mind you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sherlock snapped, “Mycroft has me tested regularly.”

“Good,” John smiled, then ran his tongue over his peeping glans.

Sherlock’s hips stuttered, were quickly stilled by John’s hands, and then his mouth started running as if some part of him simply _must_ be in motion if his hips were denied their eager thrusting.

“Data! Too much data! Too little information to complement incoming data! John? John, how many nerve endings in the tip of a penis? How many compared to the shaft?”

John wasn’t about to answer. He’d just convinced himself to start sucking a man off. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He swallowed down as much of Sherlock as he could, found himself falling woefully short, and tried again while palming his flatmate’s bollocks to give him some stimulation in apology for the inches he couldn’t fellate. Sherlock was apparently _not_ disappointed in him.

“How many nerve endings in the male testicular region? Oh gods, you’re going to touch my prostate aren’t you? I must insist on outside stimulation only due to a lack of proper-“

“Shut up,” John snapped, having popped off his cock to reprimand him.

“I need to do _something!_ ” Sherlock shouted.

“Try pulling my hair, that’s usually my go to action when being sucked off by someone to the point it’s overwhelming.”

Sherlock tangled his hands in John’s short hair and _pulled_. It was distracting, but in a good way. He started bobbing his head and Sherlock was soon guiding him to speed up, then slow down, then speed up. He was moaning constantly, his breath coming in a frantic pant. John groaned out of sheer emotional excitement over having reduced the genius to _this!_

Then it was happening and John was a mixture of shocked, excited, and disgusted as his mouth was filled with salty, sticky, come. He popped off, forced himself to swallow because spitting is _rude_ , and smiled up at his flatmate. Sherlock was _wrecked._ He gaped down at John with his eyes wide in alarm and his body lax from release. John climbed up his body.

“Bit not good?” John frowned.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock replied, “Will this change things?”

“It doesn’t have to, but I’d like it to.”

“How so?” Sherlock worried.

“For starters, I’d like to do that often. For another I’d like you to do some things to me. And third I love you.”

Sherlock blinked at him a few times, and then reached out to tentatively cup his hand over John’s cock, stroking it anxiously as his robe fell open to display his proud erection. John groaned but stilled his hand.

“You haven’t said if you’re okay with that or not,” John panted.

“Tell you in a approximately three minutes.”

“Why…?” John asked, but was cut off as Sherlock leaned forward to start pumping him fast and hard, “Ahh, too fast. Slow down.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked.

“I’ll come too fast.”

“Ejaculation is the _point_ ,” Sherlock frowned.

“N-no. No it’s not,” John grabbed his wrist and stopped his motions, _“Pleasure_ is the point, and more than just the physical sort. Here, let me lie down.”

John stretched out and Sherlock straddled his thighs. It was a bit like tossing himself off from that position and John grinned his approval. It probably helped him cope with what they were doing; though he hadn’t thought Sherlock would be as shaken as he clearly was. Still, the man was game and John coaxed him to stroke him slowly, his motions long and burning down into his core. John groaned and let his eyes relax a bit, peering up at Sherlock through lazy lids as he rolled his hips in lazy pleasure.

“This is… good,” Sherlock said softly, “Is this good?”

“Yeah,” John breathed, “Very good.”

“I want more,” Sherlock said softly.

John frowned a bit and glanced down at Sherlock’s relaxed prick, “Ummm?”

“I want you inside me, but it requires me cleaning up first.”

“You ready for that?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “I’m unconcerned with my own discomfort. I want to see you as excited as you were last night.”

“You can get me there without anal, Sherlock,” John replied, quirking a smile at him.

“I want this.”

“Okay,” John nodded, “Fair enough.”

“Will you be angry if I leave to clean up?” Sherlock asked.

“I won’t be angry if you leave to clean up, or just leave to _stop_ ,” John replied, suspecting Sherlock was trying to escape.

Sherlock smiled and leaned down to kiss him back for the first time. They snogged for a moment and then Sherlock sat back up, “I don’t need a way out, John.”

Sherlock dismounted, threw on John’s robe, and headed for the bathrooms. John lay back and idly stroked himself to keep himself hard. He was excited, desire and anticipation coiling in his abdomen. He’d be lying if he told himself he hadn’t imagined this outcome. He’d tried to reign those fantasies in, of course, but they still existed. Now it was about to become _reality_.

Sherlock returned with an awkward gait, his face flushed red.

“You okay?” John worried, sitting up a bit.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “I stretched my anus open using lotion as lubricant. It’s very unpleasant.”

“Do you want to call it off?” John worried.

“No,” Sherlock frowned, “I’m capable of defending myself, kindly stop coming to my rescue in bed!”

“Sorry,” John chuckled, “Habit. C’mere.”

Sherlock scrambled onto John’s lap again, pushing playfully at his shoulders and grinning in anticipation. John smiled back, holding his cock steady while Sherlock dripped lotion onto his hand and then smoothed it over John's cock.

John moaned, “Just… take it slowly.”

“I’m aware of my limits, thank you,” Sherlock snarked.

John smiled as Sherlock hissed, his arse fluttering around the head of John’s cock.

“Just…” John panted, “Relax.”

“ _You_ relax,” Sherlock snarled, sinking a couple of inches.

“Oh gods,” John groaned, “You’re so _hot_.”

“I know,” Sherlock stated with a proud smirk, then he shut his eyes and focused on sliding down John’s diamond hard shaft.

It took _ages_ by John’s estimate, but then Sherlock was settled into his lap, those full lips pursed in pride as John’s bollocks drew up against his lush bottom. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and then slid up with a low groan, his eyes never leaving John’s as he pleasured him. John gasped and groaned, by unspoken agreement he kept his eyes open as Sherlock began to ride him faster. John was trying to hold out, keeping himself from erupting before he could memorize the image of Sherlock riding his cock.

“Oh gods!” John cried out, “Fuck! I can’t… I’m close.”

“Come for me, John,” Sherlock purred.

John shouted out his release, gripping Sherlock’s thighs to hold him still as he pulsed inside of him. Sherlock moaned in support, reaching down to drag his nails over John’s chest. John swore and bucked in appreciation. Sherlock steadied himself with his feet and clenched at John’s cock, his muscles suckling at his cock. John groaned and went limp beneath him, satisfied beyond all reason. He gave John a smirk of amusement at the giddy grin on his face and slid free.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Sherlock sighed, “I have to go wash up. _Again_.”

John laughed at his accusing look and sighed happily as he left to go wash up. This was clearly the beginning of a truly spectacular partnership.

 


End file.
